


at the end of the earth, towards the west

by stinging_nettle (nap_princess)



Series: cherished original series/characters [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Analysis, F/M, Gen, I realise this fic could play out like a commercial, I wrote this fic for me but y'all can read it if you want, Insecurities, Modern AU, No proof reading we die like men!, Open Ending, Original Characters - Freeform, Vroom vroom bitch, friendships, legit the scene could be one friend obv struggling with a problem, lmao what a concept, road trip au, then buy him a product and everything becomes better, then his mates sit down with him and chat and laugh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:02:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21820648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nap_princess/pseuds/stinging_nettle
Summary: I am not much of a reader. And yet, I have an opinion that — stories shouldn’t only exist for the sake of a plot, sometimes stories just exist for no rhyme or reason—  road trip AU
Relationships: Alvin Chung & Terence J. Moore, Dominique (Dommy) & Alvin Chung, Serena Baker & Dominique (Dommy), Serena Baker & Terence J. Moore, Serena Baker/Alvin Chung, Terence J. Moore/Dominique (Dommy)
Series: cherished original series/characters [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1613785
Kudos: 4





	1. i

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Last 3 Years of My Life in 3 Minutes.](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/542821) by Valspire Family. 
  * Inspired by [I Went on a Roadtrip with a Stranger.](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/542824) by Valspire Family. 



** at the end of the earth, towards the west**

* * *

**i**

* * *

* * *

I am not much of a reader. And yet, I have an opinion that — stories shouldn’t only exist for the sake of a plot, sometimes stories just exist for no rhyme or reason.

I am saying this because stories are often than not snippets of someone's life and, my life, or anyone's life in fact, is not one straight line, because life never is. Sometimes it's consistent and sometimes there are days where it's messy and nothing ever makes sense, and even if it did, there are always plot holes and things that are unexplained.

Along with these thoughts, I would also say that I am not all that smart nor philosophical. I've sought out and taken an online test (I believe it was the Mensa test) to determine my IQ and I ranked average (97). I am normal, but that doesn't mean I can't have epiphanies or useful ideas. Even the craziest bastard is capable of stirring a plan and making it work.

I am not being modest by saying this, I’m also not implying that I’m crazy; I simply am. And often I do things for some mindless fun.

Anyway, this is just a warning that everything is everywhere and that I myself do not know where I’m going; with my thoughts or my life. I’m in this weird limbo, but I suppose it doesn’t matter which direction I’m going as long as I’m _going somewhere._

* * *

We drive off.

Or, more specifically, Serena Baker drives off, while I try not to sink too deeply into my thoughts. It is too early for that and the playlist Serena has compiled together is playing pleasantly, so I instead challenge Serena to a singing contest before she suggested we sing a duet off-key.

With the windows cracked open and the early rise of the sun, it looks like we are beginning. But our journey doesn't start until we pick up Dommy and Alvin. The four of us are going on a road trip.

I do believe that road trips are cliché, however, I also believe there’s a draw to it. There must be a reason why road trips are labelled under ‘life-changing events’ or why it’s a common trope in Young Adult books. I personally have not read many novels that center around road trips; if the last _Harry Potter_ book counts and also that one _John Green_ book where they’re looking for a girl named Margo (I can’t remember the title nor do I feel the need to).

Despite me saying this, I am compelled to go on this road trip. I think a lot of people like the idea of it because it feels like a mix of visiting a foreign space, running away and then returning back to your old life and your old home — though that kind of aim contradicts the purpose of road trips since most people living on the road want a scenario where ‘nothing will be the same again’.

With this ‘journey’, it had started in the morning; with me shouldering my backpack and waving good-bye to some of my family members. I can understand why not everyone is up and cheerfully sending me off. It’s nothing dramatic and I appreciate my brothers fighting to stay (barely) conscious. I smile at them too for their efforts to not hurriedly crawl back to bed, I think it’s nice of them to wave back.

"Bye, T.J.," My father had said and I continued grinning at him before entering the shotgun side of the beaten up old van and giving one last wave.

"Terence, you ready?" Serena had asked.

I remember nodding to the question. And then she shifted the gear-stick and we were off.

* * *

“Hey, you!”

“Hey!” Serena choruses back.

I smile at Dommy as she climbs into the back seat, throwing her sports bag like there’s nothing valuable inside. “It’s barely past eight A.M. and you’re already so energetic, Dominique,” I say to her, almost in a teasing manner.

“Morning to you too, T.J.,” Dommy replies, smiling at me before closing the door behind her.

I let my blue eyes linger on her for a moment — tan skin, her usual athleisure clothes and brunette hair tied in a ponytail — before I turn forward and drum my hands on the dashboard, exclaiming, “Onwards!”

* * *

We wait five minutes in Alvin Chung’s driveway after his mother makes him double-check his luggage and asks him, “Are you sure you have everything you need?”

Even as he’s walking to the van, his mother runs out with a jacket in her hands and makes him wear it. Alvin might think the display of affection is embarrassing, but I think it’s really sweet.

Then, Alvin’s by the door and I think that _I should do it now._

I think to myself, maybe I should hop out now and switch seats with Alvin. It’s the right thing to do, isn’t it? To Serena, I come last. Usually, significant others come in first place, then best friends, and then friends — even if I’ve known this friend for most of my life. If I could view us from an outside perspective, I would definitely say that it’s easy to see that I am the black sheep of the group.

“Hey, man, do you want to sit here?” I ask Alvin, regarding him.

Alvin turns to me, his face looks sort of surprised. If I wanted to be truly self-deprecating, I would say he acted this way because he didn’t expect me to be here. But, he could just be sleepy or flustered.

“No, it’s okay,” He says politely, waving his hand and then arranging his bag at the back. With all our stuff, it may be a game of _Tetris_.

A moment later, the trunk closes with a _thud!_ and Alvin is asking if anyone needs to use the bathroom.

“I think we’re ready to go,” Dommy asks, smiling.

Serena nods and grins back, while I take a deep breath and think, _Wow, so we’re really doing this?_

And so, our journey begins now!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Why are all the Japanese books I pick up so deep? I go in thinking, ‘Ah, teenage youth!’ then I come out with all these very human feelings. Like, excuse me? 
> 
> There is a sort of plot here. Or, an analysis: thoughts on friendships or smaller circles of friendships within an already small group. I’m sort of basing this on my housemates and I. Or, more specifically, how we reflected on one specific housemate, L, and the different relationships we have with him.  
> We did this rank thing of who’s closest to who, and I ranked 3rd to him, which is fair. His number 1 is C, his girlfriend; 2nd is B who is he shares classes and a degree with, and the last is M who is a quiet person. I mean, L is quiet too, so you know what that means. (We’re all pretty quiet people, ambiverts and introverts mixed together, it’s only when all 5 of us are together then do we make noise).
> 
> I sort of expected myself to be neutral with L but he has shown concern for me, stayed during the break to keep me company while everyone else went home for the break, and said, “Talking to Sue is like talking to my brother,” which I thought was interesting since we’re not very close but there’s an obvious mutual respect. Maybe I’m thinking too deeply into it but I’ve lived with other people and I’ve never had a quiet friendship between anyone else but with him.
> 
> Like, I know him but I also don’t know him well despite living together for two years. You know what I mean? I don’t think we could drop to being strangers, I do believe we could be closer, but our friendship as it is is very pleasant. I want to write out this nameless friendship we have and some of the feelings he’s told me because I don’t know if there is anything to resolve or if there’s an answer to why he feels the way he feels. Of course, I’m also mixing my own point of view so there is no definite answer, but, hey.
> 
> — 16 December 2019


	2. ii

**at the end of the earth, towards the west**

* * *

**ii**

* * *

* * *

For someone who does not like reading, I am well aware that my thought process reads out like a boring textbook — just paragraphs, just facts, I’m telling more than showing.

Despite my efforts to not think too deeply, I do end up doing just that. I start questioning the aim behind this road trip despite my original claim of 'I want to do some mindless fun'.

It's not that I want to complicate this trip, sometimes a trip is just a trip. It’s like I said, it’s nothing dramatic. It's not like I'm going forever or anywhere far in fact — I’m just touring around the country with people my age.

But still, I think I also took up the offer because I told myself, "What else are you supposed to do during the Summer besides this opportunity?" Well, it sounds like a horrible excuse, I know. I could do _so many other things_ since this Summer break isn't as restricting. I've graduated high school, I'm one step away from college. I really could spend the time maturing myself to get into the mentality of living away from home and learning how to take care of myself, but I know my character.

And what I would do if it were up to me is: I’d simply waste my time. I would spend all my free time binge-watching shows; opening and closing the same apps over and over again; or at most, getting a part-time job. This trip is better than not doing anything for months on end. This trip might be life-changing. This trip might be me saying good-bye to old friends and strangers alike.

My thoughts are a bag of mix nuts. On one hand, I feel like I'm not preserving my youth well without the group. On the other, I'm well aware that there's no such promise of living a teenage dream, but I'm tired of living the life I have and _I want this._

* * *

Our first day wasn't entirely dull, we were still riding on the high of our new adventure, raving on the list of sights we wanted to see and documenting our experience on social media when we stopped to eat lunch.

But, after a few stops and hours of being cramped in a small living space, our road trip became a little underwhelming.

We had spent the rest of the day visiting gas stations; stopping to use the bathroom, stretching, buying food; and, you guessed it, driving! I quickly discovered how limited one could feel during a long car ride. I almost wanted to annoy the people in the van by acting like that kid who asks, 'Are we there yet?' but restrained myself from doing so.

While on the road, there wasn’t much to do except talk, sing-along, nap or listen to Serena's fifty-two hour _Audible_. You'd think listening to someone read a book would be easier for my attention span but I started slipping two minutes in, I don't think I'll ever have the patience for classical books.

And now we’re in a cheap motel, the girls are bundled up on one side of the bed, cocooned in blankets and snoring lightly. They tapped out of the card game early and are now asleep with the light on, but Alvin and I are still playing. What can I say? I’m stubborn and I want to win!

“You’re horrible at this,” Alvin says to me in a hushed voice.

“You’re only saying that because you want me to quit.” I joke.

I will admit, I do feel tired, it seems lethargy is seeping into my bones, but I'm mostly trying to joke around because I want to liven up my conversations with Alvin. Serena was the first to lose, then Dommy but Dommy had stayed up to chat with us until she found herself fast asleep next to Serena. And the moment that happened, our little talks turned almost stiff and it was clear Alvin and I only spoke out of politeness.

I would have mulled over this further if Alvin hadn't snapped me out of my thinking space by humming as a reply.

He then reaches out with one hand to rub his itchy eyes. There’s a flicker behind his gaze, I see him strain to read his cards before he throws them between us. “I can’t do this anymore.” He whispers in frustration.

“I win,” I declare in the soften tone I can muster then raise my arms in the air.

“Only because I forfeited.”

“Still a win,” I say then start gathering the playing the mess.

Alvin unfolds himself from his sitting position and starts helping me. We quickly settle that before Alvin goes and wakes Serena up with a small shake of the shoulder. I turn my attention to my childhood friend as she mumbles something incoherent, cracking one green eye open at her boyfriend.

“We’re leaving your room now,” Alvin says.

Serena starts nodding her head as if she’s agreeing with a serious topic — and then she’s out like a light. Wow, I think I understand the saying ‘nodding off’ now.

I should have looked away for this tender moment, but I didn’t. Alvin chuckles at Serena’s antic before scooping her up slightly — could I call it ‘scoping up’ if all Alvin did was drag Serena’s tiny body slightly to the left and butt scooted? — to the side of the bed we were playing cards on.

Serena sighs in content by the cool side of the bed, and Dommy rolls over since she's no longer being smushed to a corner. I don't want to seem creepy by staring at Dommy, so I turn my eyes to Alvin instead.

Ah, it seems like I’m watching yet another tender moment, though now I wonder if looking elsewhere would make much of a difference. When Alvin’s with Serena, he really acts like there’s no one else in the room but them. He’s very affectionate with her; tucking Serena in and then gently brushing some of her curly chestnut hair away from her face. With her sleeping expression and her fluffy cheeks, I wonder if her cuteness if what made Alvin like her.

“Should we head to our room now?” Alvin asks me, snapping me out of my thoughts again.

“Yeah,” I say and yawn, hoping Alvin doesn’t misunderstand my staring. I was daydreaming, if anyone asks.

I dig into the pocket of my pyjama bottoms and made the first move to leave while Alvin turns the lights off behind me, clicks the lock from the inside and closes the door.

Alvin is polite enough to let me use the bathroom first, and when it’s his turn, I wait to turn off the lights by stretching on my side of the bed. This is going to be the start of many nights we’ll be sharing a room together; I suppose I should get used to it.

As Alvin sets aside his red-rim glasses, I let out one more yawn and reach for the lamp.

"Good night," I say, but the words feel too cordial in my mouth.

“Night,”

* * *

I don't know how to explain my relationship with Alvin Chung. But, if I could put it in the simplest of terms, we're in the same friend group — a ‘dynamic’ four, however, Alvin's more of Serena's and Dommy's friend than mine.

It's not to say that I don't hang out with Alvin or that I don’t try to get close to him. It's not that we don't get along either, because we do, but I don't think we'd have anything to say to each other if the girls don't initiate the conversation. I have a pretty neutral relationship with Alvin; I can easily make him laugh and we share some interests, but …

Sometimes I think he’ll forever be labelled as ‘my friend’s boyfriend’, it may be the only thing that will exist between us despite the trust he’s shown with the secrets he’s shared and despite the things I know about him that others don’t.

He’s not really a stranger, but I don’t know if he’s considered an acquaintance either.

Alvin joined our crowd somewhere in sophomore year of high school.

Before we had become acquainted, I distinctively remember him for the bright, firetruck-red leatherjacket he would wear in Fall and Winter. After that, it’s kind of a blur, but I think he started sitting with us during lunch because Dommy was nice enough to invite him?

Or maybe it was because they were on the same Athletics Team? Or … was it because they were paired up for a group project? Alvin and Dommy might have been having disagreements which pulled Serena and me in to help them with their homework.

I can’t recall, but Alvin soon found a spot at our table. And then he developed a crush on Serena and … it was _very obvious_ that he liked her. He even did that thing where he sort of got on Serena’s nerve just to get her attention. However, he was mature enough to realise when to stop. He never crossed the line. He never took a joke too far or went out of his way to deny his feelings or hurt Serena’s feelings in return (if he did, though, I wouldn’t have tolerated such nonsense).

Long story short, Alvin teased Serena to the point of mild irritation, this continued for a year plus until all the signs finally made sense and it became official that they were dating.

Now, with all my talk about Alvin and Serena being together, it may seem like I’m setting myself up to be seen as ‘the jealous guy who’s been in love with his childhood friend for years and years’, but I promise you I’m not in love with Serena Baker.

And I don’t have anything against Alvin. I think he’s a cool guy and I find it hilarious that he’s built a strange rivalry with my mother's cat, Soda, whom my brothers and I had named. I guess I’m perplexed by why we aren’t closer.

I suppose I’m also insecure that he trusts me but I don’t trust myself (not with Serena) with my self-image.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: I’ve had these characters with me since I was 16, it’s kind of fun diving into them but I do hope that I can write more positively instead of focusing on Terence’s pity party.
> 
> — 18 December 2019


	3. iii

**at the end of the earth, towards the west**

* * *

**iii**

* * *

* * *

I let out a big sigh.

"What's wrong?" Alvin asks from the driver's seat, briefly taking his dark eyes off the road and looking at me.

I stare into the tube of fruit flavoured _Mentos_ packet I've just opened. "It's always lemon." I say bitterly. I'm convinced I'm cursed, whether I open these sorts of sweets, the first one is always the flavour I hate the most.

"You don't like lemon?" Alvin asks. He sounded genuinely interested. I have no idea why my brain tells me that he is.

"Terence _despises_ lemon flavoured anything," Serena answers for me. I see her shift from the backseat and grab onto the back of my chair. "I'll eat it." Serena offers.

I turn my head a little. "But you like the strawberry ones," I say.

"Then I'll eat it," Dommy says suddenly.

It scared me a little that she was listening. I could have sworn she was half-asleep with earbuds in. Her tan hand extends into my view and I stare at it for a bit.

"You don't mind?" I ask.

Then two seconds later think how stupid I just made myself sound. I basically limited myself and Serena from eating it. It's not like the little fruit candy is evil. Maybe I'm just 'gatekeeping' it because I don't want anyone to experience something I dislike.

"It's candy, dude. I don't mind." Dommy tells me in a 'it's okay' tone.

And for some reason, that soothes it. Everything seems so simple in her eyes that I plop the yellow devil into her open palm without a second thought.

Dommy pops it into her mouth then asks, "Happy?"

She's smiling at me now. A small, euphoria hits me. And it's not because _it's Dommy,_ okay? It's ...

"Yeah," I say with a nod. "Thanks, Dominique."

I grin back at her and then look back into the tube — I let out another sigh. Lemon again.

* * *

Alvin and Dommy end up eating all the lemon flavour _Mentos_ ; which, in my opinion, were 50% of the flavours.

If I had decided to hoard the candy and eat it all by myself, I'd say it's a scam. A total waste of my money. But since I'm sharing and the pieces I hate are being eaten by someone else, I say it's a win-win on both ends. They get free food and I don't waste anything I don't like. They're doing God's work.

And after I think that, I let my mind wander, with the key idea that I _don't_ understand how anyone _could_ like it (lemons, but also, I suppose stuff I don't agree with).

And now I'm gonna say a small epiphany about myself that sounds bullshit, not because _it is bullshit_ but because it came from lemon flavoured candy: it's difficult for me to understand why people would like the things I don't. It's difficult for me to wrap my head around the idea that people would accept something I don't. Not because it's not good enough _for me_ , but because _I_ think it's not good enough _for anyone._

Despite my lack of … well, anything, I don't think people should settle so lowly. I think they deserve something that was given 100% effort. I mean, some people do accept the ways things are, even if shitty, but I don't. Or rather, _I can't._

Am I being too harsh on myself by waiting until a 'proper' opportunity arises? Or am I simply a snob hiding behind frumpy blonde hair and worn hoddies; too high-standard for _anything_? Maybe I'm just turning things away without trying because I think I deserve 'better' (if 'better' can be defined). Or maybe because I'm afraid of some small chance that I'd not like it and get hurt?

Ugh, it's times like these that I think I'm making a big deal out of nothing. I should be as easy-going as Dommy. I think a lot of myself would be more forgiving and, in a sense, 'better' if I don't act like me (if I even know who 'me' is).

I guess what I'm trying to say is, I base myself off the things I hate or the things I could be better at if I _tried_ or the things I could like, and I don't think that's very fulfilling to anyone in my life to like me as I am now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: When will I stop the pity party? I mean, I've dropped hints of wanting to grow for a while now, and loads of yearning, but when will I act on it, damn it?
> 
> — 27 December 2019


	4. iv

**at the end of the earth, towards the west**

* * *

**iv**

* * *

* * *

"We should explore that abandoned building we just passed," I say; mostly out of boredom, but also because we may or may not be lost, and I don't think it'd make any difference if we take a detour.

We've been driving for hours now, and though that shouldn't mean anything significant because _this is a road trip_ , we should have reached our destination an hour ago. But, you know how these sort of things never go as planned. Ah, _Google Maps_ , where one hour means three, and 'this way!' means 'fuck you!'

"T.J., no," Alvin replies.

I almost chuckle when I see how stern his expression has twisted into. I know Alvin is a responsible guy, but it's funny for him to think I'm serious. I'm not. I don't plan on joking any further about the abandoned building or making up a scheme to visit the place. I know I was the one to suggest it, but I also know it was an out-of-nowhere idea that could be reckless and dangerous.

However, I can't help it, I burst out laughing when Serena coos out a long, "Ooohhh, can we?"

Dommy and Alvin both give us a look that tells us we're stupid; and you know what, I think they're right. But that doesn't bury the fact that Serena loves scary things, she _will_ try to corral us into some wild antics.

"Come on, please! It's still daylight!" Serena pleads, just as I had predicted.

The decision to detour is pending. With Dommy being behind the wheel, she has the power to turn the van around if necessary. However, the keys do belong to Serena.

I dunno, I sort of expect Dommy to have a final say in this. She may have cast Serena and I a judgemental look but she hasn't decided yet. Even though Dommy's Serena's best friend, I know there's a mountain of things Dommy doesn't agree with Serena, so it could go either way.

(Though, it doesn't help that Serena's doing that thing where her green eyes are wide and her lip is dipped in a little pout. I haven't a clue if anyone's found a way to resist Serena Baker's puppy face yet)

"We'll just walk outside it, okay?" Dommy says finally.

Serena pumps up her fists in the air before giving me a high-five while Alvin let out a noise that sounds like 'Are you kidding me?', but the car makes a U-turn anyway.

"Don't stress yourself, we're not going in."

* * *

We went in.

We split up too — with Alvin going with Serena, and Dommy with me — because _apparently,_ we're the _Scooby-Doo_ gang now (but without _Scooby-Doo_ himself).

The building is as old and clunky as you can expect. The sun's still high in the sky so it's not exactly horror movie material, it's not dark. We see every speck of dust and every graffitied wall. The broken windows and indoor plants make it sort of pretty too.

(I wonder if I'm being lulled into a false sense of security?)

Just to have something to do, I start telling Dommy about the fall of some _YouTube_ star that I binge watch analyse videos on this morning (I was bored at 3 A.M., okay? I couldn't sleep because I had napped all day). She doesn't get it, I don't blame her; there are too many things and people and events to keep up with. Until recently, I didn't know that one of the richest _YouTubers_ is a kid who does toy reviews.

Another epiphany, that should be universally known, but is coming to me now: the world works in mysterious ways.

I think I'm starting to bore Dommy with my useless knowledge when she suddenly reaches out and pats the side of my temple. _Pat pat pat!_ It happened so unexpectedly that I didn't even have time to react.

"Wha —?" I stutter, feeling her palm on my freckled face.

"Mosquito," She answers.

"O — Oh, I see," I say, but I think I'm mostly trying not to blush.

Dommy pulls back and rubs the remains of the mosquito on her leggings. She doesn't seem all that bothered as I am, I should keep my cool.

"You know, this place would be kind of neat if it's redecorated. It could be transformed into a night club maybe. Add a DJ booth there, a dance floor here, hand out some glow sticks and it's all set." I say stupidly. "Someone should do it. It's not weird, right? To have a party in the middle of nowhere."

"Someone?" Dommy echoes then turns to me fully. Her eyes are on me; a stormy grey. This day is getting more and more expected. She asks, "Do you mean 'you'?"

"Me?" _What do you mean?_

"Yeah, do you think you'd open a cool club? Do you think you'd be the kind of person to start a business?"

"I ... I don't know." I say then avert my eyes. I stare out the broken window, towards the blue sky, I suddenly want to leave.

* * *

Aside from the fact that I'm a large number of the population who statistically suffer from a disconnect with family members and middle child-syndrome, I also am having a moment of an identity crisis. One may say, "Hang on, those are way too many issues someone should be handling!" and I would reply, "Not really, everyone is always dealing with one thing or another. Just because their life is a pleasant stand-still now doesn't mean there isn't a nagging voice at the back of their head that shouts at them about a laid problem."

I don't look in the mirror and ask, "Who am I?" because I think that's too melodramatic. But I am wondering if who I am currently is enough. If anyone is able to read my mind, they'd probably tell me, "I know!" because I do think of it often. I may be thinking of it too much. I may be emphasizing that I'm lost _too much_ and relying on this trip _too much_ and speaking only about myself _too much._

But, I feel the need to explain. I feel I need to talk about it, a lot, to try to understand my own mind.

You see, what came with my family issues also came with my 'mask' of being the funny guy (evidence: my joke earlier with Alvin and him not understanding, and Serena agreeing, and Dommy just going along with the ride which resulted in a talk that I would rather not dwell in).

I think I choose to act this way because I never felt enough attention was given to me, and so, I would act as loud and clown-ish as possible. I'm always joking around, but I feel like giving examples of these jokes now would only make me look like I'm trying too hard to prove a point. And the thing with comedy is: if you have to explain something then that just shows it wasn't funny in the first place.

(That's just how it is)

Anyway, back to my point — I have _issues_. They're not big issues. At least, I don't think so. They may lean more towards _insecurities_ than issues though, which may make me sound kind of entitled because not everyone gets to address their insecurities.

I know Serena has always had a little lisp, and she's insecure about it because she was made fun of it growing up; I know Alvin looks at his athletics teammates and wonder if he's the right build since most of them are towering and lean while he isn't; I know Dommy says she doesn't like being tall because, for the first few years of her life, her height intimidated the people she liked and she hated the way she scared them.

But, despite this, Serena still talks to everyone she comes across and Alvin still made the Athletics team and Dommy dresses in a way that suits her stature. It just seems like everyone is growing to be the person they like and learning to cope with their insecurities while I'm just picking at every flaw every day. I know I'm not the first to feel this way, and I know I'm not the last either, but sometimes it feels like I'll stay in last place no matter what.

What if I don't grow even if I want to?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: It's going to be the tipping point of Terence getting somewhere (haha, I love that I can sort of make low-effort road trip puns) but I've still got more drafts of him being insecure.
> 
> — 28 December 2019


	5. v

**at the end of the earth, towards the west**

* * *

**v**

* * *

* * *

I have a mini-crush on Dommy. A 'squish', if that word is still being used.

I try not to think about Dommy too often nor include her in my narrative to an excessive amount. I want to avoid tricking myself into believing that she might have a chance of liking me back.

My biggest fear is Dommy hating me. I would never do anything to make her think ill of me, but, on the top of my head, I think there is **one way** I can betray her. If I were to, for some reason, challenge how things are, I know it would destroy our dynamic four.

This version of Dommy and I — a sort of somewhere relationship, close but also not really — might be enough for me. _No._ It **has** to be. I don't think I could risk wanting more, if I do, I'll look back and wonder if we can be 'that' again.

I try my hardest to promote realistic thoughts — of Serena Baker being a close friend; of Alvin Chung keeping his distance from me; of Dommy being neutral with me.

* * *

We stop at a gas station to fill up the van's tank.

I've been behind the wheel for almost three hours; it feels nice stretching my legs and being out in the open. My butt feels numb, I didn't even know it was possible, but after spending about two weeks in a cramped space, you learn a thing or two.

The girls are in the convenient store, stocking up on snacks; Alvin and I are standing in silence, listening to the churn of the gas pump and smelling gasoline. We're occupying the same space but we aren't really saying anything to each other, I can't say it's Alvin's fault, I'm the one staring into space.

From a distance, Dommy catches my gaze and smiles at me. I smile back. I see her twist her hands together, notice her pretty pink nail polish against her tan skin, before she looks away from me. She always looks away first.

"Hey, T.J.," Alvin calls me, snapping me out of my daze.

I turn my head, the strands of shaggy blonde hair scratches the nape of my neck. I shiver slightly. "Yep?"

"Why don't you call Dommy 'Dommy'?" Alvin asks.

I blink. "What do you mean?"

"I usually hear you call her 'Dominique',"

"Do you think it's strange?" I ask back.

Alvin doesn't even need to consider this. He just shakes his head and says, "No, but it piques my interest."

"Because it's different?" I ask a second time.

And once again, Alvin shakes his head.

"Well," I say slowly, thinking on how to word my sentence. I could go into a long-winded explanation, but … will Alvin get it?

I've spent most of my time being silly, laughing at memes and joking too much, and yet Alvin struggles to understand the outer part of me. With that in mind, how is he supposed to understand the inner part of me? The one where I hide because I don't want to step on anyone's shoes?

I don't know if I can explain it to Alvin the way I'm thinking, so I say, "You call me 'T.J.'," like it's supposed to mean something.

And I suppose it does; _to me._

"And?" Alvin asks, prodding me to explain.

"Don't you think that's different too?" I say, even though Alvin never confirmed that it was different. "Serena calls me 'Terence', she calls you 'Al', it's just how it is."

Alvin thinks about this for a moment before locking his eyes with me. He nods his head once. "Okay then, you can call me 'Al' too."

"What?" I choke.

"I mean, there's no reason you can't. We're friends, aren't we?" He says.

I freeze. _We are?_ I mean ... I feel like this type of conversation shouldn't arise after knowing each other for three years. I've seen Alvin at his worse, exhausted from all-nighters; sick from the flu; fighting against the juice squirting out of his nose because I said something stupid during lunch.

I shouldn't be stunned, but I am. I simply didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything.

But I smiled at him.

* * *

'Dominique' is actually a nickname. 'Dommy' is a nickname to a nickname. Or maybe another nickname to Dominique's real name.

Her actual name is 'Kyriaki', it's Greek. I didn't quite understand how that translated when she first told me, "Call me 'Dominique'!" until I had hopped onto _Google_ and discovered that both names meant 'of the Lord', so I guess that's that.

In my mind, I call her 'Dommy', but out loud, I call her 'Dominique'.

It might have something to do with a cautionary thing, the time a girl in my class told me, _"When I introduce myself to people, I tell them: 'Call me 'Su',' since no one can pronounce my Chinese name but there are instances where they call me 'Suzy' or give me a funny face and then ask me, 'Why is your name 'Susan'?'. It's not! I just told them to call me 'Su', but obviously they weren't listening. I don't like it when that happens. I'm a little sick of it."_

I think it's also due to the fact that Dommy calls me 'T.J.' which is what most acquaintances nickname me, so I don't feel comfortable addressing her so casually. Though, I will admit, I don't think I would have had any trouble referring to her as 'Kyriaki' if she asked me to.

The day that happens is the day Dommy refers to me as 'Terence'. Previously, I would have said it's unlike but now … it may just be possible. And, strangely, it's all thanks to Alvin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Is it a slowly turning wingman situation or AlvinTerence bromance lol?
> 
> — 29 December 2019


	6. vi

**at the end of the earth, towards the west**

* * *

**vi**

* * *

* * *

"Hey, Al?" I say, and note how Alvin's nickname sounds odd coming from my mouth.

"Yeah?" He perks up in the reclined shotgun seat. He doesn't seem all that indifferent about the nickname.

"Call me 'Terence'," I reply.

I don't know why I told him so, but I did. The first 'vulnerable' step, in my book. And I can't take it back, not that I want to. But it's out there, and that's that, I suppose.

We're parked on the side of the road. These are one of the few nights we aren't fortunate enough to book a cheap motel. The girls are snuggled in the backseat, pressed against each other for warmth; with Dommy being the big spoon and Serena being the little spoon. Alvin and I are in the front seats, quiet and trying to doze off.

I rub the lines under my eyes and glance at my phone, it's a little after 2 A.M., my battery is dying. Let's see how far I can make out of this and then pass it off as early hour rambles.

"I think I've been losing myself lately," I say.

The hands I've folded on my abdomen are shaking — but not from the cold night air. I don't know what compels me to say this, especially since Alvin and I haven't done anything to cause my sudden confession. We've done nothing today but goof around and basically enjoyed each other's company.

The sound of the night sneaks in through the cracks of the open window. The rise and fall of Alvin's chest goes still and he barely lets out an exhale, like he's afraid he'd breathe the wrong way around me. His dark eyes look over at me and he raises a brow.

I know he's trying to say, 'Go on, speak your mind' without actually speaking — maybe so he won't subconsciously talk over me or maybe to not pressuring me — however, his silence unnerves me a little.

I pause.

I've already put myself on the spot, but can I really go through with it? It's just that — _Well._

It's not like we've never had deep conversations before, we have. I've just the fact that I've never told Alvin anything deep when it's the two of us. I guess I can try.

Heaving a deep sigh, I say, "The thing is …" and look over at Alvin; I feel myself stop.

Or rather, I stop myself. Alvin Chung isn't exactly the closest person I have in my life. He's _a friend_ , yeah, but … Alvin's more of Serena's boyfriend than anything; than _my_ friend. I can't stop thinking of it like that, I can't stop thinking that I'm burdening someone who doesn't think deeply of me.

What I tell Alvin might overwhelm him. Or, it could be microscopic. And to have me speak of it in waves … could I do that to him?

Would it be stupid to tell him, 'I don't know who I am, and it's becoming a problem'? It sounds stupid in my head. It would probably sound just as ridiculous if I were to say it out loud too but … that's how I feel.

I don't know if Alvin can relate — not because he's like God-status perfect; but because Alvin's not the type to say dumb stuff so I don't know if thoughts like these have ever run across his mind.

I squeeze my eyes shut and end up shaking my head. "No, nevermind," I say then turn back to staring at the inky black night.

"No, tell me." Alvin says, not missing a beat. It surprises me.

"I don't —"

" _Terence_ ," He says, making my anxiety leap. "Tell me." He insists. "If you have to pretend I'm someone else to say it, then do. Pretend that I'm Serena, if you have to, I know you two are close."

My baby blue eyes drift over to Alvin. I try to picture and replace Alvin's medium height and stocky-build, square jaw and a rather imperfect nose — with Serena's features. It doesn't work the way I want it to. I think I just envisioned what their future son may look like if Alvin Junior were to take after Serena.

Alvin wants me to see him as Serena? Why?

I turn my head, my freckled cheek pressing against the headrest. "Why would I tell Serena?" I ask him.

"Because you two are close," Alvin repeats his earlier statement.

'Serena is close to everyone,' I want to say but don't.

Instead, I say, "I wouldn't know how to tell her," It's the truth.

I expected silence to follow after. The worst possible outcome.

However, Alvin doesn't trail off or call the whole conversation a failure. He just barrels through and tells me:

"You can still tell me what's on your mind. You can practice on me until you feel comfortable telling whoever it is that you really want to tell this to. I won't judge. I can't say I'll give great advice, or even proper advice, but I'll lend you an ear and I hope that'll help you in some way. I'll listen, alright?" Alvin says, rambling in a way I've never heard him.

He won't leave it alone. I should have known that _nothing_ stops Alvin when he's determined.

I suck in a deep gush of air, already feeling out of breath. "Okay," I say slowly.

* * *

Where to begin?

I suppose the start, the very beginning.

But, before that, I would like to re-mention my already existing pile of insecurities — me using this road trip as _some sign from the universe_ to set my life straight when what I _should_ have been doing is enjoying the road trip for what it is: a bloody road trip; I'm afraid that I'm not connected to the people around me because they don't address me as the name I'm fond of (like how celebrities have their own names but everyone keeps referring to them as _that one character_. Like, fuck man, that's _not_ my name!); I don't understand how someone can like something I dislike, and the biggest thing I dislike right now is _myself_ , so I don't understand how people can have this urge to get to know me, much less befriend me; I have middle child syndrome, and that itself leads me to feel like my parents and brothers don't care about me enough; I settle for less, or rather, I don't try harder for more because I don't think the likelihood of being successful will go in my favour.

All this I tell Alvin. I'm not sure how long I talked. I swear I barely paused through the entirety of the conversation; it feels like I had just monologued like a villain, or gave an especially long lecture.

And now, I'm about to move onto my main point — _the beginning._

I'm about to tell Alvin another secret that I don't think should come his way. Not because it's a big secret; or maybe it is, but more so because I think it's out of his loop. I'm about to share my _most deeply rooted insecurity_. Or, more accurately, 'the origin' of all my doubts, which is — my mother.

I've spent seventeen years of my life on this earth _and yet_ , my mother still misspells my name. To this day, she asks, "Is it 'Terence' with one R or two?"

And thus, this negligence _may_ have been the origin of 'T.J.' — short for Terence Jaxon.

I don't have proof, it happened _so long ago_ that it's impossible to remember if this is the true reason of my nickname (and if so, that's sort of a silly thing to be holding onto if I can't even remember why I started the whole tipping point). But, knowing some parts of myself, I probably got insecure when I was little and didn't want to embarrass myself, so, voilà, I concocted a nickname for myself. One that I hated, and soon everyone under the sun was calling me just that: relatives, neighbours, teachers, classmates, shopkeepers, strangers, friends.

 _Friends_ — I haven't considered people who call me 'T.J.' as friends for some time. I kept telling myself: _if they really knew me, would they call me something I hate?_ I wondered when I stopped referring to folks as 'my friends'. I just instantly struck them as acquaintances as soon the word 'T.J.' left their mouths. Mainly because I never associated myself with 'T.J.', and I only tolerated it because I had implied it when I know I shouldn't have. And for the longest time, I didn't know if I could take it back.

It was like … if I told them to call me 'Terence' then it would be me reinventing myself. Or, reverting to my old self when I had once upon a time thought I wasn't good enough.

I tell Alvin, "My self worth is in shambles," All this because the woman who gave birth to me refused to act like a mother.

My mother always wanted a daughter. Being the second son, I was _her chance_ of achieving _her goal_ when disappointment came knocking on her door. It's like those TV shows where the Dad character, who's also a coach, isn't able to live his dream as a star athlete so he pushes his son to follow his old man's dreams, only to get a reply of 'No, Dad, that was your dream!' years later.

However, my mother never tried to build me up. When I wasn't what she wanted me to be, she pretty much closed her eyes and tried again, as if who I am isn't good enough for her. And when my younger brother wasn't a girl either, it was like she decided to give up on parenting.

To her, it's a question of: _why raise a family if it isn't the kind I want?_

If I close my eyes, I can still vividly picture the morning the gang and I started this road trip; with my father waving me off, my brothers groggy but making an effort, my mother missing from my vision; still warm in her bed, and absence in sending me off. I think that speaks volumes of how much she cares about me.

"It hurts," I admit.

 _But_ — I tell myself.

But after what's progressed so far. After my fantasy of this road trip doing what I hoped it would do: I'm learning to finally let myself trust, to not settle for uncomfortableness.

And this starts with Alvin.

If he hadn't taken the first step, the statement of 'Alvin is Serena's boyfriend!' would have held me back. In the past, it would have shouted at me, again and again, to not see him as anything else.

The issue behind this was because of the trust Alvin had on me. Again, I'm not in love with Serena and I would never put him in such a spot. I know it, Alvin knows it. A part of me is glad that Alvin understands that I care for Serena like a sister.

However, another part of me — the disgustingly evil part — wondered if the reason he never had his guard up was because he thought I was never particularly 'intimidating' in a 'You can't steal Serena's heart because you're not worth her heart' kind of way.

This was what I meant when I said Alvin trusts me but I don't trust my self-image.

These sort of taunts would ring in my head often, it was why I had decided to keep my distance.

_Until now._

Now I know it's just horrible doubt and my ignorance in how much Alvin cares for me. And, because of this, I've decided that it's time I stop thinking so negatively of _everything_ and _everyone._

Maybe it's time I let more than one person see me the way I want to be seen? Maybe it's time I let others call me by my name and not be embarrassed that I'm 'Terence'? Maybe it's time I let my walls down?

Turning to Alvin, I say to him, "You're a good friend, Al."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: This is really coming along well, I'll be able to wrap this whole thing up in nine chapters.
> 
> Ah, it's so nice that I'm able to flesh out and write a plot about characters I've had since **2012**! When I had first created these four, all I did was draw them. They had some characteristics but never ones that applied to a plot, and now I've managed to apply some life into them.
> 
> Funnily enough, I started this short ficlet because I never paid that much attention to Terence (I legit could never spell his name right according to history). Terence was always the 'he's sort of there' background character, Serena was the main character while Alvin and Dommy were the secondary characters. It's nice to see things flip around.
> 
> — 27 January 2020


	7. vii

**at the end of the earth, towards the west**

* * *

**vii**

* * *

* * *

I've made a mistake.

.

.

.

My phone rings — loud and blaring.

I stare at the name on my screen, stare at the personalised profile picture and think, _Wow, that's a real person. That's a whole real person._

I don't know why this thought came to me. Maybe it's because it's almost 4 A.M.? Maybe it's because I'm tired? But does it matter? Just when I thought I was finding myself instead of imitating who I thought I was supposed to be, I ruined it.

 **SERENA BAKER** flashes on my screen, again and again.

* * *

Serena Baker is a close childhood friend of mine, we've known each other since we were in diapers. I feel especially close to her. It's like we're family.

I would consider myself her best friend if someone else (Dommy) didn't already occupy that position — not that a person can't have more than one best friend, but I think Dommy fits the best friend role better than I do. There is no filter between those two girls.

Serena treats me like glass sometimes. I'm sure if I were to ask her for an opinion on a sensitive topic, she wouldn't dilly-dally in answering. However, I don't think Serena would be brutal with me either. She'd be honest, in a soft way.

If I were to ask her if she thought I was ugly, she'd probably tell me that, by no means was I her type, but I wasn't bad looking.

She would tell me, _"You're my right-hand man and I wouldn't trade you for any prince charming, Terence!"_

If I had the guts, I would tell her, _"But, you've already got Alvin Chung, does that comment even matter?"_

Or, I'd tell her how I don't have any defining features or lovely, thin fingers meant to play the piano or nice hair; that my face is generic to the point that it's forgetful; that I'm tall but in a lanky way and that my hands are calloused.

.

.

.

If she hadn't already heard me say all this, hear what I truly thought of myself, I wouldn't know what I'd do with myself. But, she did hear. And I don't know what to do right now.

* * *

I swipe the green button and press my phone to my ear.

.

.

.

"Terence?" Serena's shaky voice calls out through the other line.

Serena was awake the entire time. She heard _everything_ I told Alvin. I only knew about it _too late_ when I had heard her trying to muffle a sad sob. She sat up when Alvin and I had turned around to face her, shocked by her reaction.

Through her tears, she had said a few things, along the lines of _"I knew you carried heartache, but I didn't know this much! Oh, Terence, why didn't you tell me any of this sooner?"_ but I didn't catch the whole thing.

Before I knew it, my fingers had reached for the door, and I just —

_Ran._

Ran out from the van.

Ran with the keys to the vehicle in the pockets of my sweatpants, so, _of course_ , they're looking for me. How else are they going to move the damn vehicle? They're stranded without the keys and —

I'm so stupid! I'm such an inconvenience. I'm —

"All of us are worried about you," Serena continues. "Where are you? Come back to the van, it's dangerous being alone at this hour, let's talk. I want to talk to you; face to face. I want to see you. Please. I want you to trust me."

My phone is dying, beeping a warning, in the red.

"I'm an idiot." I say to her.

Then my phone dies.

* * *

My mother has always liked Serena.

My mother always craved to have a little girl, but after three boys, the hope of trying again just faded — it's like that saying, "Third time's the charm," except that it wasn't and there's really no reason to have more children because we aren't that well-off and there's no doubt that college tuition is going to kill my family.

So Serena became a substitute daughter. I've seen the way my mother looks at Serena, there's _this swell of love_ that my mother should have expressed when looking at her sons, but never existed.

I do believe I am a little envious of Serena, despite us having a deep bond and despite her being my longest friend.

Sometimes I wonder if the reason I stay close to Serena is because _I want to be her_ , in some way. And then I wonder if that makes me a bad person. It's like I'm only befriending her so that I can steal some of her personality; to make myself wanted in the eyes of a person who doesn't even care about me.

* * *

My mother grew up as an only child, she was sheltered most of her life.

She enjoyed solitude more than raising her children or having conversions with her husband. She didn't like when my brothers and I roughoused and thought it would lead to 'violence'. It was naïve of her. A sort of thinking I don't think an adult should possess. But she did. She hushed my brothers and I when we laughed too loudly. She didn't understand the saying "boys will be boys" and expected us to act like little angels.

I suppose, because of that, the house didn't really grow up as a family. We were just expected to look like one.

* * *

I'm not close to my brothers, _but I would like to be._

I think my father had caught on about this distance in our siblinghood at an early age.

Once upon a time, he had tried to gather 'the men of the house' to go _adventuring_ (read as 'run errands'). It was an attempt to be our true selves around one other while running around doing simple things, like an early morning trip to the grocer to buy ingredients for breakfast pancakes or to fill up the car's tank at a gas station. It got boring at times, I remember falling asleep most of the time and waking up with the car back in the driveway.

Some time later, I don't know if my father lost the free time or if my brothers got busier, but we never did try those early morning runs again. I really don't know what happened, _but I'll always appreciate my father trying to make my brothers and I feel like a family._

* * *

Over time, Serena had gotten understandably busy too; with school work and life and the-like.

I remember there was a period where I had felt especially horrible. I had told her I was _sick_ so I wouldn't be contacting her as much as I would like. It's not like I hadn't had days where I haven't contacted her — there are days my data is reaching its limit and days I spent not looking at my phone, but it was during this period where _I was sick_ did I have the thought that I was _incredibly lonely_ without Serena.

I just felt like she was having fun with other people while I was ... _here_ — alone. It's not anyone's fault, sometimes loneliness just gets the best of us. But, I really felt like I could be easily replaced and no one would miss me.

I even remember this one moment where I had spent all day chatting to a few people on _Discord_. Serena and I were in this one same server (having never grown out of this one fandom we absolutely adored) and I guess Serena finally had the chance to reach for her phone and scroll through the channels to see me active. She had messaged me, I had replied — one wordedly — then I found myself getting up and doing something else. I don't know why. I told myself, _Hadn't I spent days agonising over the idea of her reaching out to me?_ I had waited _so long_ , but the moment the opportunity was handed to me, I backed away.

I suppose a side of me didn't want to be pulled into a false sense of familiarity. I didn't want it to seem like we had grown close again only to spend days apart. I know it's childish of me, it's inevitable that people grow apart.

However, I didn't want to — either grow close or apart. I simply didn't want to grow.

* * *

Serena and I are close, as Alvin had said. There's no other way to describe it.

But, there are some things I cannot talk with Serena about. And when Serena doesn't want to talk about something, she literally turns the other cheek. She turns her head and avoids eye contact.

I can't tell her everything, even if I wanted to.

.

.

.

If I can't tell the closest person I am to about the darkest parts of me; then who can I tell?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Seeing as it's my tradition to post two chapters back-to-back and then fucking off for a few weeks after, I can gladly say that I'll do just that.
> 
> However, since I'm also known to almost never finish anything due to my anxiety of never being able to create the perfect ending, I don't know when I'll ever finish this ficlet.
> 
> — 27 January 2020


	8. viii

**at the end of the earth, towards the west**

* * *

**viii**

* * *

* * *

Dommy finds me.

I don’t think I deserve to be chased after, but I admire her for doing so — having just woken up minutes ago, being disoriented by sleep and having to look for me in the dark. This is why she made it on the Athletics team, she really knows how to run.

"Why did you leave us like that?!" She scolds me, not holding back. Her hair's a mess, hoodie askew and panic on her face; it's quite a slight, she’s usually composed. The flashlight app on her phone blinds me. "You've got some nerve, taking off running in the middle of the night, you bastard! We're in the middle of nowhere, anything could happen! You could have been hurt, if it was bad, _really bad_ , there wouldn't be anything we could do to ease the situation!"

I almost smile. I appreciate that she's not treating me like I'm fragile glass. I appreciate that she's showing me her true emotions.

"What if you were on the verge of death?! I don't want you to die. I wouldn't know what to do with myself! I wouldn't —!" Dommy stops talking as if she didn't even want to think about my funeral.

"I'm sorry," I say. I mean it.

There is silence for a moment after the rightful scolding, then she asks in a genuine voice, "Do you need a moment to collect yourself before we walk back to the van?"

I turn my gaze to the side of her face, a little to the left, above her ear. "I guess," I answer.

"You paused," She says, close to accusing me of lying to her. I don't blame her.

"I was thinking," I say.

Her grey eyes shine with recognition. "You do stare into space a lot when you're thinking." She admits.

"I do?" I ask.

"Hmm," She hums. "You're a thinker,”

"I suppose," I say. I've noticed that part of me, but I never knew that other people noticed it too. I'm still trying to figure out what I mean to the people around me. Then I say, "I wouldn't lie to you."

"I know." She says, her voice going all quiet again. "But you do keep things to yourself. I wish you talked about yourself more. I wish you talked to me."

"I do." I say, almost defensively. "I do talk to you."

"But not as much as with everyone else." Dommy points out.

That part is true. I feel bad for constantly putting Dommy out of my mind. I just didn't want to disappoint myself with the possibility that Dommy doesn't care about me as much I care about her. But, clearly, I'm wrong. She does care.

"We should be able to tell each other things. We're good friends, after all." Dommy says.

"Good friends?" I say as if it’s never occurred to me. Have I been the only fool unable to see things as they are?

Oh.

_Oh._

"We should get back." Dommy says suddenly.

"I —" I stutter. "I don't know if I can. Serena wasn't supposed to hear any of the things I told Al. And I — I don't know if I can face her."

"So you want to be here? In the dark?"

I look down at the ground, I can't even see my feet. I'm shivering a little too, it's cold. My hoodie barely brings me warmth.

"The dark isn't a nice place, T.J., I should know, you've been keeping me there for a long time." Dommy continues.

I raise my head, now I look at her. "Do you want me to tell you everything I've told Al?" I ask her.

"I do," Dommy answers without missing a beat. "But, you don't have to tell me if you think it's too much pressure,”

I nod, thinking once again before saying, "I'll tell you if you give me a minute to sort out my thoughts. But I'm still not ready to see Serena yet."

Dommy mimics my nod. She puts a hand on her hip as if she's trying to figure out a grand scheme. "Okay, so why don't we just hang here for a bit, build yourself until you can walk back to the van with me? How do we do this? How do I make you feel comfortable enough to tell me?"

"Well …" I say slowly, but it comes to me quickly. "To start, can I call you 'Dommy'?"

"Of course, why couldn't you?"

I smile at her. "Okay, then you can call me 'Terence'. Not 'T.J.'. 'Terence', okay?”

Something behind her eyes flickers. She doesn't question my request.

"Alright then, Terence,” She says, no intonation change, no nothing, like it’s been like that for a while. “Tell me what's on your mind. Don't hold back any details, I promise you that I can handle it and that I'm here for you."

* * *

After shooting off a text to Serena and Alvin that Dommy and I are okay, I tell her everything. Everything _and more_.

And when I’m done, Dommy sits in silence then asks, "Why do you treat yourself like this? Who told you it was okay?"

I shouldn’t have many qualms about Dommy trying to understand me, but … I don’t know how to feel about expressing myself to Dommy yet. “Nobody. Nobody told me. I just figured, since I’m average then I don’t … not ‘deserve’ but … I just feel like I don’t have a justification for worthwhile things.”

"Because a stupid online test told you your IQ is 97? So what if you're average? So _what_?" Dommy says to me fiercely. "Are you going to be sad when an online quiz tells you you're not the celebrity you feel the closest too? Are you going to weep that a _Buzzfeed_ article tells you you're untoasted white bread?"

“It’s not that.” I try to argue.

“Isn’t it? It sure sounds like it is.” Dommy does not hold back. “You make it sound like being average is a bad stigma, like you’re not special so you’re not entitled to basic things.”

I twiddle my thumbs, do I really sound like that? Do I really hold myself back?

She continues, “You can’t wait for someone good to claim you’re ‘the chosen one’. You can’t let people dictate you either. People talk shit all the time, it doesn’t always mean the person they’re talking about is evil. Most of the time, it’s the talker that’s bad for spreading misinformation and doubt. How can you trust someone like that to say you’re not worth something? It’s good that you’re careful and listen to opinions, but you have to determine things by your own thoughts too. You’re already a thinker, you just have to determine now if you want to spend the rest of your life critically thinking or irrationally thinking.”

I catch her staring for a long time and, I first think there’s something on my freckled face, or maybe a leaf tangled in my frumpy, blonde hair. Or maybe I just look generally bad in my clothes, but then I cast the bad thoughts away.

Dommy’s obviously not thinking any of that, she’s simply waiting for an answer from me. She’s looking me in the eye and I know she won’t let me make up excuses to half-ass an answer. She’ll never allow me to think so lowly of myself.

Still, I worry. I almost pull my hoodie over my head but then I return her stare and I can’t help but let my anxiety melt a little. I flash her a small wobbly grin.

“I’m just not sure of who I am so I expect people to tell me.” I say finally.

“I don’t think that’s how it works. People change all the time and we don’t always show everyone our true selves. Sometimes we don’t know some parts of us that others do, and vice versa. To be defined by one thing is impossible. I was to say ‘You're you, Terence’ but that’s not really an answer, is it?” Dommy tells me. “Maybe you don't like who you are now, maybe that's a good thing because you know that you can improve and be someone you like better, but that doesn't mean you should hate the current person that you are. I'm not saying this because 'you could be worse', I’m saying this because you don't give yourself enough credit.”

I stay quiet before announcing, “I knew it,”

“Knew what?”

“That this road trip was going to be worth something.” I say. “I’ve been debating about it for a while now, going back and forth if there’s a reason behind it, and now I think there is. It’s to open up to you and Alvin, and maybe Serena too.”

“That’s another thing that you should stop looking for.” Dommy tells me.

“And that is?”

“Signs.” Dommy replies.

“But —”

“You can tell us anything you want anytime, you know? This road trip didn’t have to happen for you to say anything, Terence, it’s just something that happened in our lives. The universe doesn’t always make sense. I’m not going to lie, you can’t get everything you want; there will always be restrictions. But, in believing in signs, you’re restricting yourself even more. You’re looking for something that does not exist. There is no instant way to find yourself, it’s going to be a struggle and it’s going to come out of nowhere like a sudden epiphany. Sometimes this realisation is going to sit at the back of your head until you’re ready to face it because you can’t force anything.”

I stay silent, soaking it in.

“You shouldn’t wait for something to happen,” Dommy continues. “If you want it, you have to be realistic about it, or at least ask. The worse answer you get is a ‘no’. A lot of people get told ‘no’, a lot of people get rejected and go through hardships. Sometimes it doesn’t get resolved, but sometimes they also do. This road trip is a lot of things, but there is no one answer to seek out your multitude of questions. There’s clarity in an abundance of everyday things but you can’t leave it up to the universe to provide you with an answer.”

I want to lie on my back but know that will only dirty my clothes then the van when I get back to it later. So I just say, “It’s frustrating when I have to come to the realisation myself. I wish I could understand things just like that, I feel like when I don’t get something instantly then I’m not moving. And if I’m idle then I’m failing. So I guess I just … turn to other things to tell me who I am and what I’m supposed to do. I guess I also don’t trust myself, I made one mistake ages ago — telling everyone something about me that I don’t believe — and, still to this day, I punish myself for it. I blame myself because the decision hasn’t stopped hurting me since I made it.”

I figured since I was moving far, far away from my home; where I grew up, surrounded by people who sort of knew me; to travel with people whom I thought didn't want to know me then I would finally feel free and start a new clean slate. I thought I'd be safe to be who I truly am and maybe someone better too.

The harsh truth is: my problems follow me wherever I go. Road trips are not an escape from reality and don't solve any of my issues, if anything, it made my struggles catch up to me while I was running away from it.

The fact is, I'm still the same me. If anything, I’m more truthful about it. By not being truthful, I just created bigger anxieties; mostly revolving around road life, on hot and cramp spaces, on dangerous nights we have to sleep in the van, on a lack of privacy because the windows are too open to the public, instances where I had to pee in the rain because there's no place to use a restroom, and I've developed a need to hold in any unpleasant smells because it affects _everyone_.

I've pretty much developed a constant checklist to look out and see if other people are okay, and I feel like I've taken granted a lot of things because being able to get up after binging _Netflix_ , stretching my legs and grabbing a snack from the kitchen sounds like a luxury. Not many vehicles are built for tall people.

“I don’t want to make it dramatic, but really, it’s a little dramatic.” I say.

“It’s personal.” Dommy says, wording it better for me.

“Yeah,” I agree. “It’s personal. It means a lot to me.”

Dommy pats my knee. “Is there more you want to tell me? Or do you want to keep that to yourself for a little longer?”

I twist my fingers together. “There is more.”

“Oh?”

* * *

I include my fears of telling Serena, it’s nice telling Dommy, she understands part of Serena that I don't.

I tell Dommy how I imagine if I were to tell Serena all my thoughts, then she will be heartbroken. Dommy tells me that Serena is tougher than she looks; more than what I fear she'll be. People often underestimate Serena because she's small and likes dressing-up in pink dresses, but I should know that Serena is more than how people paint her to be. It's just my anxiety attacking me with doubts.

With that last piece of advice, I manage to muster up the courage to walk back with Dommy.

The stars are brighter here. Brightest I've seen, it can't compete with the city light. I see Alvin and Serena sitting at the back with the back hood popped open and their legs hanging.

The coolness of the night makes me shiver. Serena and Alvin are bundled-up but Serena keeps scooting over to Alvin for warmth and Alvin keeps rolling away. It's funny watching them do this weird dance.

"Terence!" Serena yells when she spots me.

She hops off the van and runs to me, the blanket around her shoulders acts as a cape. She almost tackles me to the ground in a hug. Dommy is right, Serena is tougher than she looks. My anxiety is such a bitch for telling me that Serena doesn't care about me enough to understand me.

"Hi," I say softly.

Serena looks at me. Her thick lashes blink back her tears before she wipes them away with the back of her hand and holds me close.

"Don't you ever run away like that ever again!" She scolds.

"I'm sorry," I say. I can see the teardrop running down her skin.

"You don't have to apologise. There's no need for that, there's nothing to be sorry about. Just —" Serena's voice wobbles and she crushes me in a tighter embrace.

She must have signalled for the others to join in, because soon I feel other arms encircling me. Wow, I never thought random group hugs were a real thing.

"Just tell us next time, okay? Tell us anything, even if you think it's lame. I promise you it's not. I promise I'll listen." Serena says.

"Me too." Alvin says to my right.

"Same," Dommy answers to my left.

I don't know how to reply. I haven't even explained myself to Serena or given Alvin details to why I bailed. I feel like I'm getting off the hook too easily. But, Serena said I didn't need to apologise because there's no wrong to right, no mistake to ask for forgiveness. I’m trying to work this through, doubt doesn’t disappear just because people give you good life advice.

“What do you want to do now?” Serena asks.

“I want to tell you what I’ve told Al and Dommy. It’ll take a while but I need to say it, okay?” I reply. Then I look at Alvin and Dommy. “I also want you guys to tell me your honest thoughts. Don’t be afraid to call me out.”

They nod.

“And then?” Serena asks. “Do you want to go home? After what happened, I don’t want you to continue the trip while you’re shaken up.”

I bit my lower lip. “I do need to talk to a few other people after this. It’s convenient if we go home.”

I don’t know if talking to my parents will help. I don’t know how understanding they’ll be. I also don’t know if I should seek out a therapist immediately. On one hand, I have the time, most of Summer is still on my side, I should use every advantage I have because not everyone clicks with their first therapist. But, funds are also something to consider, it’s like Dommy said, I have to be realistic. Maybe I should wait and go see a campus counsellor when I go off to college, why not hit two birds with one stone by using utilities I’m already paying for?

“I’ll have to think about it.” I say truthfully. “But, let’s just do this first, okay? One step at a time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Cheesy, but I’m trying. I don’t want to sound fake woke but this is what I believe in currently.
> 
> — 7 February 2020


	9. epilogue

**at the end of the earth, towards the west**

* * *

**epilogue**

* * *

* * *

"I'm going to hurl!" Al yells as Dommy sends the trolley spinning some more.

He starts screaming about how he's going to die but Dommy only lets out a laugh, and neither Serena or I step in.

We decide to go to the beach, to the sea. Something about looking at the big blue that stretches on for miles and miles reassured me. Maybe it's because I've been cramped in small motel rooms and an even smaller vehicle? Maybe it's because the ocean reminds me of the road except that I'm constant? It's okay to stand still to admire how far I've come instead of constantly pushing myself to go forward.

The day is about to end, with the sinking sunset, most of the parking lot is empty. I bet a lot of people are rushing home to cook dinner.

I stare at the pink clouds before I turn my gaze at Serena and feel myself smiling. She's just kind of folded into herself; sitting cross-legged, back bent to lean into her phone, eating a bag of sour gummies as she digests the cheerful laughter ringing. It feels like the old days.

"I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like I didn't trust you," I say out of the blue, causing Serena to lift her head.

Her green eyes look piercing as she stares at me. "You never did. I think I may have been over-emotional when I said you should tell me things."

"You weren't over-emotional, you were being honest," I reply. We're still trying to figure out how to be open with each other and we're both a little scared of overstepping boundaries. It's so strange since we've known each other for forever.

Serena locks her phone and mulls over her words. "I suppose, but you understood what I was trying to say, right? You don't owe me an explanation but please don't feel the need to hide anything from me,"

I nod, letting out a hum in response. Silence could have come and swept up the remainder of our time, but instead I open my mouth and say, "Hey, I want to tell you something."

"Now? Are you sure?" Serena quirks an eyebrow, blinking at me with long lashes.

"I'm okay with it."

"No pressure?"

"No pressure," I reassure her then say, "I like Dommy," And now I'm staring at Dommy barreling through the sidewalk, never taking my eyes off her.

Serena lets out a squeak; I know she's excited and shocked. "Are you going to tell her?" She asks me.

"I don't know," I reply sincerely. "Do you think I should?"

"It depends," Serena says, that surprises me.

The lollipop I'm sucking on hangs out from my mouth. "I can handle rejection," I tell her.

"That's good, but that's not that what I'm talking about."

"Then?"

"It depends if my opinion will overshadow yours. I don't want to put my words in your mouth." Serena says, she's probably thinking about the IQ test and that thing Dommy said about the Bread Quizlet.

"Hmm, okay, I've decided I'll tell her how I feel." I say.

The late-night talks have helped me determine some steps I can take to stop the constant cycle of my life that I do not like; not letting myself think too deeply into the negatives is one of them. Things that play in my head seldom match with what really happens, I shouldn't limit myself because I think life is going to punch me in the face.

"Now that that's decided, tell me your opinion, I promise I won't chicken out. I want to know what you think, if you want to share them with me, that is." I say, giving her an easy grin.

Serena smiles at me, giving me her full attention. She laces her hands together, looking pleased.

I look forward to building bridges that my doubts told me I had to burn.

* * *

**end**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: I really like adventure stories that tells tales of meeting new people and building new friendships, but I always wondered why most rarely bring old friends into the picture and build on from there. People are always changing and growing, why not strengthen old friendships? It's beautiful when people have a history together because there's always so much to unpack and some interactions that can seem normal/odd are both easy and hard.
> 
> I also always liked open endings where it's not concrete that it's a happy ending but it gives hints that issues are addressed and they'll try to fix it — but life is life so who knows how things will play out?
> 
> — 13 February 2020


End file.
